Stutely felt like he couldn't find his way to solid ground. He'd come in half-expecting some snooty goddess who'd make him simper for the honour of her favour, and instead— she didn't even know what he was about and she was practically begging him to let her help. He was drowning in their kindness with fight-or-flight pumping through him and all he wanted to do was find something to punch.
"He's talking about me, orright?" Stutely burst out, as though that much wasn't already obvious. He retained enough sense at least not to yell, the words instead coming out in a harsh hiss. "I'm not— part of the stories any more, folk've forgot me, and it's making me forget and putting the whole gang in danger. So that's what we're about."
He finally managed to meet the goddess's eyes, sullen defiance blazing in his own.